


Forevor Enduring

by HeDidCare



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confident John, Confused Sherlock, John dyes his hair, M/M, Mass Deduction, Pink hair, Sassy John, Shy Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeDidCare/pseuds/HeDidCare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John is talked into dying his hair pink,  its the ultimate statement to a Hospital that rejects his identity. But when his new neon hair catches the eye of the worlds only Consulting Detective - you can expect things to get interesting. Especially when its John who's the confident one, and Sherlock just wants to study him - rather than take action.  Alot of encouragement on John's part is required to let Sherlock actually think about who he is, and what John means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A rushed descision

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, much appreciation to my Beta.  
> And all characters belong to BBC.  
> I'm just playing with them. GIVE US MORE SHERLOCK!

John should never have agreed to it. But as usual he was pliant as putty, and had allowed Sarah to coerce him into dyeing his hair pink.  
When he'd gotten sick of her setting him up with many nurses, he'd finally just told her he was Gay.

"I Should have guessed!..in fact, I suspected...your sassyness, and those tight leather pants at last years Christmas party!" She declared once he'd blabbed.

Yes, he was what you'd call a sassy Gay, or an obvious Gay. He liked pink - he was meticulous about his grooming habits, and he had tonnes of friends, due to the fact he was so open and likable. 

"We should have a coming out party!" She declared, the conversation that followed had been funny for her - and awkward for him.

"But everyone guesses...knows I am, just not you apparently. No need for a ... party." He'd told her.

"Fine then, just a party to celebrate me knowing, and we can invite all the staff!" She'd exclaimed. He'd had to let her down gently.

"Sarah, They know I'm Gay, but most don't actually approve. They think I get off on things prostate exams, or checking men for STD's." He told her quietly. She'd burst out laughing, attracting the attention of some of the new ward staff.

"Okay, that's sad but I understand. How about just something with me and you?" She asked innocently.

"Yeah, something simple." He'd replied  
\- And that's how he got to where he was today, walking through the hospital, head held high - while everyone stared at the Doctor with the Neon Pink hair. He ran into Molly coming from the Morgue.

"Oh, I'm so sorry ... John?....Wow!" She mumbled. He grinned.

"Quite the hairdo!" She said cheerfully She was one of the few hospital staff who didn't give two hoots.

"Yeah, Sarah doing....She only just figured 'it' out. You know her - went her usual crazy." He told her.

"Actually looks good. Makes your eyes stand out." She told him, still holding the cups of coffee she'd almost spilled bumping into him.

"Yep. Kind of an eff you to anyone who doesn't like my decisions." He Laughed - aware that this was probably worse than any party he could have held.

"True! Hey, can you help me with one of the cadavers - all my staff are on break and I need to have this guy ready by 11:00am, the bodies a murder victim - he got choked like a chicken. I cant get his bones to assimilate again." She told him, cringing at her own metaphor as much as John was.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sure I could do with some time away from disapproving eyes." He replied, and followed her down the hall. The coffee was still sloshing in the cups.

"Thought you had no staff on hand?" he asked, pointing to the two cups. She frowned and blushed simultaneously.

"He's ah... not staff. She replied hurriedly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a little fed up, and John is left open mouthed with a very embarrassed Molly.  
> Sorry, it is slightly Shorter - but I started writing this by hand then typed it up, and I really don't want to fiddle and make it longer.

Sherlock stared at the short haired man that had followed Molly in - after a quick look over, he went back to his microscope.

"This is Sherlock Holmes." Molly told the man, as she placed his coffee beside him. Black with two sugars as he had demanded.

"Hi, I'm John." The man introduced himself - as Sherlock was measuring organism movement post freeze.

"Sherlock, you should say hello." molly demanded, to which Sherlock did nothing - she stepped over and grabbed his coffee back. Sherlock glowered at her, but silently surrendered.

"Hello John .... former Military Doctor based on your tan. I would ask if it was Afghanistan or Iraq, but due to your obvious medical skill through Molly requesting your help - I'm lead to believe its bot. Your getting over a psychosomatic limp I see, but its not predominant enough for many to notice. This, I would assume is in correlation to your hair.... Pink - your a healthy fully grown male, so obviously Gay then, due to percentage rates for those who disapprove of same sex couples - means 785 of staff here don't like you - so you have your own private war here. Thus your limp gets better everyday, stimulated by their hate. The worse others treat you, the more it adrenalizes you. Like War. All helping your limp. of course this is all subconscious, all you know is that you like war and that your limp is getting better slowly....the wrinkles around your eyes are very distinct shapes. Worried about a family member then. Your Mother'd dead - obviously you couldn't afford medical school due to your accent and clothing, so you used her life insurance money. Result? She's dead, leaving your Father, who obviously wasn't their to raise you - hence your love of the Army, learning off men. So... siblings? No brothers as their was no men in your life, so a sister. Your phone was a gift based on its old model. Too shoddy for a doctor,so from your sister. It has an engraving on the back, Your sisters an alcoholic too, you don't see the scratch marks around the charger plug on any other phones. Obviously, your now uncomfortable I know so much about you purely by glancing your way - and there's a 90% chance you'll respond with 'Piss off' ....Now GIVE ME BACK MY COFFEE!" He grumbled, staring intently at John until the end, then tearing his gaze away to glare at Molly. She did so Promptly, turning bright red at his minor outburst.

"That was..." the pink haired John began - but Sherlock couldn't be bothered with any insults, he glared at Molly even harder while smashing the Coffee all over the Morgue floor like a child - and storming through the swinging doors with his coat billowing behind him like a black cape of death. His experiment would have to be conducted in the flat. He got a cab outside the Hospital, and took off pouting - unaware of the pink haired Doctor trying to get his attention as the cab raced away. Sherlock was already thinking more relevant things, like when his next case would be? - and why Mrs Hudson saw fit to let out the room above Sherlock at all?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has his own outburst, defending himself.  
> Oh, and I hope nobody minds the Language I occasionally use in these - I'm not sure what to put as a warning for that. Any tips would be helpful.

"...Amazing!" John had finished - but obviously the amazing man had not heard. It had Seemed to take him only a split second to grab the coffee, throw it on the floor and storm out of the Morgue with long strides.

"I'm so sorry....He's arrogant and rude - but not normally so horrible! he mus not have a case." Molly Gushed - John closed his still open mouth.

"I'm gonna go after him." he told her, before running after the tall pale man. He was amazing, he'd gotten everything right, even - he supposed, the bit about his own private war. John was running through the halls - but it seemed Sherlock had disappeared. A strange name to be sure. John crossed the hospital using staff doors, and ran out the front of the hospital - only to see the tall, pale Sherlock Holmes get in a cab looking Angry as hell, and speed off - despite John's frantic arm waving. Damn. He returned to the Morgue and helped Molly with the body.  
Although they both smiled and laughed as they spoke - John knew she was thinking about Sherlock just as much as he was.

"Doctor Watson to Doctor Wilkes office." A voice crackled over the intercom. Sighing, John left Molly to Finnish the almost complete corpse. He left with a rushed goodbye and strained smiles, and headed straight for Sebastian Wilkes office, head honcho of all the Doctors - and about as charming prostate exam or breast screen.

"Doctor Watson ... Sit down." He purred, a smug grin playing on his lips.

"Doctor Wilkes, How can I assist you?" He asked snappily - not wanting to talk with a person who plainly disprove of him.

"You dealt with three patients today, All male, and all complained about their Doctor ... you, and wanted to change.... Why do you think this is?"He asked, eyes flickering from John's face to his hair.

"I'm assuming this is your roundabout way of telling me you don't like the hair?" John inquired - not wanting to spar with an idiot such as Sebastian Wilkes. They glared at one another.

"The Board will be discussing this latest fashion statement tomorrow. Your taking a day off as of now, and there wont be need for a board discussion if you come into work tomorrow with a .. heterosexual hair color." He spat, annoyed no doubt that his fun had been thwarted.

"These Patients - they complained that they thought me Gay, Which I am. And you want me to change my hair to fool them?" John demanded - his hot temper barely contained.

"Yes, male patients aren't comfortable with you. This conversation is all off the record of course." He replied calmly.

"You Fucker! a few old men think its wrong for me to be a 'shirt-lifter' so they complain- and you use my hair as an excuse to kick me from the Hospital, because your a damn homophobic too!" He growled, getting up from the chair body rigid.

"I never said we'd fire you." He said frantically - noting no doubt the spark in John's eyes.

"When else do you call a 'board meeting'? I'll save you the trouble. I quit. You can deal with the staff shortages. Fuck you Sebastian." He growled, and stormed out of the office feeling free.


	4. A surprising Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wikipedia:  
> In everyday English usage, allies are people, groups, or states that have joined in an association for mutual benefit or to achieve some common purpose, whether or not explicit agreement has been worked out between them. 
> 
> So true.

As Mrs Hudson had insisted on showing people through the upstairs room - Sherlock had agreed to act as a filter for all the unwanted, or unsuitable people. So far eight had been shown through - all of which he'd deemed unsuitable. There'd been the porn addict, the chronic masturbator, the Pot addict, the transgender man, the nice 'nice' one, the one who couldn't actually afford it, the gang member, and the woman from down the street that came only as an excuse to see Sherlock with her mediocre case, the ' cheating husband' scandal. All had been ushered out the door with Mrs Hudson sad smile, and his usual glare.

"I've got none more today lovie. Eat something - or i'll have Angelo deliver something and stay till you eat it all." She threatened. Begrudgingly he took an apple and bit into it. He could practically feel his energy being redirected from his brain just to digest the stupid fruit. Mrs Hudson finally left him alone, and he continued with the Post Freeze Organism Movement experiment. Getting caught up in it, he snapped back to reality at 9:00 pm, with the conclusion of his experiment being recorded duly. Still no cases, and he was bored out of his mind.  
Reluctantly he put on his coat and scarf, ready to do the only thing that could calm his mind in the moments when he was going mad. The Hatfield park.It was cold this time of year, which meant that only homeless - and those with a good mystery about them were out walking. He sat at his usual bench, and watched the crowds, deducing all he could from every individual. Slowly, his mind stopped focusing on everything - and calmed down enough to single out individuals to study. He saved them in his files, for further use later on - for instance there were 3 builders and one engineer already their, perfect for any messes he could create. He'd been at his bench an hour when he spotted a mop of pink hair moving through the crowds, seemingly with a purpose and destination. He almost bolted when he realized that the destination was him. John slid beside him onto the bench, and stared at the side of Sherlocks face. Sherlock waited patiently for the abuse so he'd hopefully leave faster.

"What you did today - it was amazing, quite extraordinary. Absolutely brilliant." he told Sherlock, smiling. Sherlock was instantly suspicious.

"You think?" He asked innocently - never having actually received such a profound compliment for his deductions.

"Yes! The most incredible thing I've ever seen! And I've witnessed 21 childbirths to date." John told him - his face and hair glowing in the night air. Sherlock returned to watching the people pass by, slightly puzzled.

"What do my deductions have to do with child birth?" He asked John eventually - not able to stop his curiosity. John just laughed and patted him merrily on the shoulder.

"Want to go for a drink? Its cold, and I quit today so i could definitely use one." John stated, still grinning.

"Why'd you resign?" He inquired, ignoring the question.  
Grinning, and before the detective could react - John grabbed his arm and pulled him up off the park bench, sending warmth through him. despite the cold. Interesting. Apparently, they were going for a drink. Sherlock ignored the creeping blush he felt spread up his neck at the thought. Luckily John didn't seem to notice - he was to intent on maneuvering the crowds, while dragging the Detective.


	5. Just a Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John learns what its like to be around the enigmatic Detective, even if it is only briefly.  
> I really have no idea where I'm going to take it from here, but if you want me to keep working on this one let me know and i'll put my other 'in progress' works on the back burner.

Watching the amazing man in the dim lighting of the pub was amazing. Sherlock was amazing - and stupidly, John couldn't stop explaining all manner of abuse he had to put up with working at the Hospital, and his new found freedom in quitting. Sherlock had been silent the whole time, apparently listening intently. John was boring himself.

"...So What do you do for work?" John finally dribbled, looking at the beer in his hands.

"I'm a consulting detective. When the Police cant solve cases, they consult with me. I'm the only one in the entire world." He replied, drinking from the whisky he'd ordered earlier.

"Sounds fun. Molly mentioned you probably didn't have a case at the moment?" John continued. Sherlock sharpened his gaze, scowling at the wall behind John.

"That's correct. It's been 6 days now. Hence why I was in the park deducing people, keeping my mind alive." He proclaimed. John was intrigued.

"So, thinking - that's what gets you high?" He asked smiling. Sherlocks face fell. John stopped smiling,something he said had upset the Detective.

"Surely you can't have already met him?" He hissed, but John had the distinct feeling the anger wasn't being directed at him.

"What? Met Who?" He asked, boggled by the speed of Sherlocks mind. They were interrupted by Sherlocks phone going off loudly. The tone was 'God save the queen' The detective smiled apologetically then scrambled from the phone while bringing the phone to his ear and muttering a loud string of curses. John was more perplexed now, than he had been in his live.  
Who was this incredible man? This tall, alibastor skinned curly haired God? The man who made his stomach flutter. Even now, in the dingy pub - he stood out. Not just because of his fancy, expensive clothes - but from the way he held himself, and fluttered around the room. He was scowling profusely and his arms were rather animated moving in rude gesture's. His eye's danced around the room, landing on John's every few seconds, and after a few minutes the man was sitting back down muttering under his breath. Before John could say anything - Sherlock began ranting.

"Mycroft called, letting me know that you two had not yet met, and that soon Lestrade would be after me. Prize knobs both of them, can't tell their faces from their arses. Both think I don't know about their relationship. But they underestimate my threshold fro obliviousness when it comes to relationships. I cant have them - but I see them, everywhere. All it takes is a bruise on the knee, or a flick of the tongue and I know exactly who's been shagging who. Fucking horrible. I cant even turn it off....Oh. John. There's a car outside. Mycroft sent it. Just tell him to fuck off and go see Lestrade." Sherlock grumbled, only seeming to notice John at intervals.  
"Sherlock? You mind classifying that for me?" He asked hesitantly.

"Car. Outside. You should go. The drink was ... nice. Goodbye." He repeated.

"Okay. See you later?" John inquired. Sherlock shrugged and began rapidly texting. John held back the sigh that he so wanted to let escape and grabbed his coat instead. Sherlock didn't seem to notice him after he'd payed their tab and left. Apparently the detective hadn't been lying about the car. A woman approached and snapped her fingers at him and the car.

"Get in." She told him. He trusted Sherlock, so he did.


	6. A meeting of power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets in the car, and has a nasty surprise - looks like his nice nights drink with sherlock is over.

"Your relationship with Sherlock, could you classify it for me Doctor Watson?" The tall man asked while leaning on his umbrella in a somewhat 'casual' stance.

"None of your business." John replied stoically, aware that Sherlock did not like this man - therefore John did not either.

"Do you seriously trust him? Why would you, you've known each other less than a week!" The man replied in a demanding tone. John was sick of the cat and mouse game they'd been playing for the last fifteen minutes - with the man demanding to know their relationship.

"So...who's Lestrade?" John asked casually - watching with glee as a blush spread up the mans cheeks and neck. 

"No need to get personal." The man retorted, choking on his words somewhat. John raised his eyebrows and gave umbrella man his solid stare.   
The stare of death.

"Fine. Anthea, take John away. We will continue this later." The man finally told him. He was lead away, his gaze not being broken from the mans until he was sitting in the black car beside the skinny personal assistant. He remained silent and alert until the car dropped him at his house.

"Don't remember telling you my address." He remarked. Anthea looked at him.

"We know everything about you - that's what happens when you get into Sherlocks orbit. Nothing is private. Nothing." She told him coldly before the car drove off, slamming the door through sheer momentum. John scowled at the cars bumper then unlocked the house and went in. His senses were pricked when he noticed one of his books out of place. Somebody had been in his apartment. He turned all the lights on and did an inspection, with his handgun in hand.  
Nothing had been taken, but things had been looked through. When he noticed the first camera he got goosebumps. After disabling it, and another 8 - he only sighed. Anthea's words rang true. Nothing was private. When he was fairly certain there was no more Camera's in his apartment, he went to bed. He'd drunk a reasonable amount with Sherlock earlier in the evening - so he dropped off to sleep quickly, despite his worries about this incredible, and it would seem dangerous man.


	7. Clearing up a few things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is as confused about emotions as ever.

"Molly, am I attractive?" Sherlock asked, while staring through his Microscope at Saint Bart's Hospital.

"Um, why do you ask?" She countered. He looked up and noticed the seemingly permanent blush that was spreading over her face.

"I need to know if many individuals would be attracted to me, so that I can determine whether a certain one is, or if their just fascinated with me. So I put to you, am I attractive?" He asked, not removing gaze. She nodded mechanically before scurrying out. Interesting. It should be easy to tell when someone's attracted to you. Dilated pupils, increased pulse. But that may be a reaction to the social situation the individual found themselves in. Fear, it too causes dilated pupils and increased pulse. Hitched breathing too. Then theirs surprise and excitement, both with the exact same indicators as attraction. Sherlock sighed. He was bored. He didn't need to be at Saint Barts today, but he was hoping to see John again. For some reason - he couldn't stop thinking about the pink haired Doctor. He vacated the stool he had been perching on and left he hospital, deep in thought about a man he'd only just met. 

"Sherlock!" Someone yelled ahead of him when he reached Baker street. He looked up, and raised his eyebrows when he saw a pink head heading towards him.

"John? How do you know where I live?" He asked, warmth spreading through him when John pulled him in for a hug upon greeting each other. Strange, he normally hated hugs.

"Oh, well it is in the Phone book." John replied. Sherlock nodded. Duh.

"What is it?" He asked, frustrated with himself for missing something so obvious.

"That car I got in yesterday, the guy wanted to know our relationship." John told him.

"Relationship?" Sherlock inquired, the concept quite foreign to him personally. John shrugged, looking dejected.

"Oh, and someone broke into my Apartment and put Camera's throughout the house?" John said, his voice inquisitive, while staring accusingly at Sherlock. The Detective raised his hands in back off stance.

"Not me. The British Government no doubt. Bloody Mycroft." Sherlock ground out, unlocking the apartment door.

"Yeah well, I'm moving anyway. Gonna start looking for a new place soon, one with better security I would hope!" John told him.  
"Why? You can look after yourself! There's no need to move!" Sherlock told him, inviting him inside with a swift arm gesture.

"In case you forgot, I lost My job? Cant really afford my place without pay. But it's not really my kind of space anyway." John told him, shutting the door and following him up the stairs. Sherlock nodded and cleared his throat.   
He had forgotten. He'd been to focused watching John talk the previous night, rather than listening to what he was saying. Why was he focusing on John's mouth? Odd. Something was going on, and he couldn't figure out what. He hated the feeling, made him feel like he wasn't functioning properly.

"Sherlock?" John inquired, breaking his line of thought. Sherlock looked up from the couch he'd apparently flopped onto, and blushed at the sight before him.


	8. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John just goes for it, in a way I think he would. No beating around the bush for him.

John had followed the silent Sherlock up his apartment stairs with butterfly's in his tummy, it was not often he found guys he was attracted to, but Sherlock was top of the scale. And he'd been invited inside. Either things were moving quickly for the both of them, or Sherlock had no idea what was going on. He'd taken off his jumper, revealing a particularly tight long sleeved shirt he'd thrown on that morning. He leaned against the door frame watching the still Detective - his hands perched under his chin eyes staring at the ceiling unblinking.

"Sherlock?" He'd called. The Gorgeous mans head had snapped around, and his eyes had landed on John, looking him up and down, staring at his chest as if he could see flesh through cloth. John cleared his throat. May as well ask now before he risked heartbreak over him.

"Sherlock, are you gay?" John asked quietly, hands deep in his pockets. Sherlocks eyes snapped to his.

"I...I don't know. I'm Asexual I suppose. " He replied. John nodded.

"Alright then. I figure I should tell you I fancy you. Which doesn't happen often - so if you ever wanted to try at a relationship..."

"You'd be there for my to experiment on?" Sherlock finished. John's temper flared.

"I'm not an experiment!" He replied Hotly. Sherlock looked back at the ceiling.

"Then why am I having such beastly reactions?" Sherlock muttered, eyes widening when he realized he'd spoken allowed. John felt protective suddenly.

"You said you didn't know, have you ever..."

"Had a relationship? No. Attraction? No. I am not supposed to have feelings. That's what Holmes are like." Sherlock told him mechanically, still staring despairingly upwards.

"Everyone is supposed to have feelings. That's a shitty way of living otherwise." John told him. He looked around the apartment.

"Do you live alone? This is a large place for one person." John continued, when Sherlock remained silent.

"Yes. Alone. The landlady is looking for someone to rent the upstairs bedroom and share the kitchen with me." Sherlock told him.

"Really? Well, I should be off - I have work to look for. And a new place." John told him, grabbing his knit jumper and shoving it back on.

"Bye." Sherlock told him, rolling on the couch facing the wall. Odd behavior from a fully grown man, but then Sherlock was obviously extraordinary and didn't conform to social normality.


	9. Invaded private space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NO PEOPLE! if you have dirty minds like mine, the chapter title will have given you some very naughty ideas. DIRTY BURTIE!

It was a week later, when Sherlock was in the middle of having his suit tailored in the living room by the Holmes Family tailor, that a fat man with tattoo's all up his arms walked into the dining room, and straight past them with a grunt and up the stairs. Sherlock stared. What the hell? The man was carrying a box of things. And he was joined by two teenage skin heads carrying boxes through his living room into the spare bedroom above. 

"MRS HUDSON!" He bellowed, startling the tailor.

"I've finished Mr Holmes, the new shirts will be delivered in a couple of days. Shall I charge to the Holmes Family account?" The tailor asked politely. Sherlock nodded.

"And the color? Purple or brown shirts?" He inquired.

"Purple." Sherlock replied. The tailor nodded and picked up his case before leaving, Sherlock hot on his heels making a detour for Mrs Hudson flat.

"MRS HUDSON!" He yelled again, thrashing on her door with the palms of his hands. She swung it open, still mixing a bowl of what he deduced as his favorite Chocolate cake.

"Somebody's moving in and I didn't get to screen them!" He told her in a huff.

"Oh deary, this one is perfect."

"Nobody's perfect, it's a physical impossibility!"

"Don't worry Sher-lock. He'll be here tonight. And i'll be at Mrs Turners so you two can be properly 'introduced'" She replied merrily, winking.

"WHAT? Who is he?" Sherlock demanded. He was stopped in his interrogation by a crash upstairs. He twirled on his heel and raced upstairs to figure out what the movers had broken  
"What did you do?" He growled at the first teenager.

"The uh, the pot." He muttered sheepishly pointing at the chinaware he had smashed. Sherlock glared. It was a gift from the Spanish consulate for solving an officials murder. Worth $40,000, not special to him, but it wouldn't have happened if the stupid movers weren't moving through his lounge. His house. Sherlock growled.

"Hurry up and get out!" He shouted, retreating to his room with the violin, slamming the door to show how upset he was at having his personal space invaded by a stranger. It wasn't fair. But he was certainly not moving himself. He loved Baker street, and he knew the place well enough to know exactly where Mycroft's camera's were, and all their blind spots. Of course occasionally he had to rip a few out as if he'd only just discovered them - but he was happy here, even with Mycroft's spying and Mrs Hudson's meddling.. Until now when some stranger imposed on his turf. This meant war. With who, he still had no idea.


	10. Asexual?

John was buzzing. He'd wanted to surprise the Detective, so he'd privately consulted with his landlady, Mrs Hudson and told her of his feelings towards the Detective. He'd been given the lease, and told he could move in Asap. He was almost there. His things had been moved in, and now he was in a taxi on his way to his new place.  
He used his new key to unlock the door, and was greeted by the chilling sound of a ghostly violin piece. He walked the stairs silently and glanced around. An expensive piece of china was smashed on the floor near the mantle, but otherwise the place looked exactly the same. He cleared is throat and waited for the Detective. A door through the kitchen was ripped open, and the Detective barreled into the lounge in a dressing gown. John swallowed, staring with interest at the detectives sinewy body through the cracks of the dressing gown.

"John? What are you doing here? I'm waiting for my new roommate that Mrs Hudson saw fit to allow to live with me." Sherlock told him, peering behind John down the   
stairs. John grinned and held out his key to the sour faced Detective.

"You? Your living with me?" Sherlock demanded looking surprised.

"Yep. If your okay with that? You seem kind-of worked up." John replied, noting the Detectives wild look.

"Yes! Of course it's fine for you to live here!" Sherlock blurted, before drawing his eyebrows together as if confused by his own admonition.

"I admit it was a win win, cheaper here, and I get to be around you." John replied quietly, giving the Detective some insight into himself because the Detective had done so.

"Why..Why do you want to be around me? Nobody does?" Sherlock asked, staring at the floor.

"Because I really, Really like you." John replied licking his lips.

"But, I'm ...Asexual." Sherlock replied stumbling on his words as he backed away from the door.

"That's fine. Nothing has to happen between us, unless you want it to? What was those reactions you were having before? Still having them?" John inquired playfully. Sherlock blushed and nodded.  
"They wont stop, I cant understand it." Sherlock replied.

"Maybe...No, never mind."

"Never mind what?" Sherlock immediately inquired.

"Perhaps they'd fade if you acted on them?" John told him.

"Yes, Or they'd become more intense." Sherlock replied logically. John nodded.

"True. Well, I'm gonna make us both a cuppa, then go to bed. You can do whatever you want." John told him smiling, before leaving for the Kitchen. Sherlock was silent, and his eyes seemed to be focused on nothing. Daydreaming. John was desperate to know what about, but instead he remained silent, placed the Detective's tea in front of him and went upstairs to unpack all his things and go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, any suggestion for how i continue this, please let me know. I want them to get together, but i'm leaving it to you guys to decide how. Any suggestions, let me know through comments or email. Thanks.  
> As ever, its this Fandom being together that makes us superior to all others!


End file.
